Check out 16 Return-To-Work Programs In India For Ambitious Women Like You!
Love is a blank canvas, and you're free to paint it with whatever colour you want, says this post!
Love is a blank canvas, and you’re free to paint it with whatever colour you want, says this post!
One of the top 5 entries for November’s Muse of the Month writing theme, with the cue “The more I know of the world, the more I am convinced that I shall never see a man whom I can really love. I require so much!” from Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility.
I spent half my life looking for that perfect shade of crimson. Only I knew what exactly I wanted. And I wanted it bad. I would keep coming across a lot of maroons, violets, and purples. And I was like No! No! No! I want crimson! Sometimes, I would get tired of searching. It was at those moments that I would ponder over vermilion for a while, or toy with the idea of giving the cherry red a chance.
In fact, at one time, the magenta looked sort of nice too. But none of them made me jump up and down screaming – This is what I was looking for! That’s my colour! I didn’t know what it was about crimson that I craved so much. Every time I wondered if I would ever find my perfect shade, I shuddered. Every time I wondered if crimson really existed, I shuddered. Crimson is only red, my friend said, shrugging. Maybe she was right, I thought. But something told me that I should wait. And I did.
And then, one day, when I was least expecting it, I found my colour. And it was not crimson. It was not even close. It was actually a chocolate brown. I could see it was the wrong colour. But I instantly knew this was what I had been looking for. And I dived headlong into it – into the warm, bottomless, mushy chocolate brown. And while I swam happily in its soft fudginess, the crimson that always eluded me surreptitiously came, melted, and dissolved in the chocolate brown, creating a shade that was so exclusively mine that every time I looked at it, my heart exploded into a million shimmery silver stars.
As I swam deeper and deeper in it, I made amazing discoveries. Who could have imagined that it actually changed colours?! Often, there would be bursts of cardinal red, burning hot and high, gushing up from the unknown depths, scorching everything in its way. But, it would retreat as quickly as it came, leaving me basking and breathless in the sultry, fuzzy envelope of its memory and pining for the next outburst.
Then there would be days when it would be a dark, brooding gray – stiflingly opaque, weighing down on my heart, making me wonder whether it’s worth going on.
Then there would be days when it would be a dark, brooding gray – stiflingly opaque, weighing down on my heart, making me wonder whether it’s worth going on. But I would go on anyway. And as a reward for my perseverance, the gray would always fade, shade by shade, to a steely gray first and eventually to silver gray, before turning – surprise! – daffodil yellow!
It’s the kind of yellow that holds the warmth of a thousand splendid suns and I would feel thankful that I didn’t give up. It’s the kind of yellow that promises that my world could be gloomy gray or murky brown, bright orange or lovely pink, soothing green or icy blue, but it would never be an impenetrable black.
Gradually, the rich chocolate brown mellowed down to a cozy caramel. By this time, I knew my way around so well that I didn’t even have to swim. I could just close my eyes and float. But that didn’t mean I would stop making discoveries. Some parts of the caramel are so transparent that I could see right through them, while some are shrouded in a thicker, smoky, mysterious burgundy that somehow keeps the going strong.
I persevered upstream, and I glided downstream; I bathed in waterfalls, I held my breath in rapids; I danced with the waves and surfed the tides; I battled the currents and found hidden treasures deep down. And somewhere along the way, I realized that love has the colour I want it to have. I realized that I was holding the paintbrushes all this while, and the colours that I saw were actually colours from my own soul, projected through my eyes; and that I could choose whether to douse the canvas in thick black or make it erupt in sweeps of red, orange and yellow, or paint intimate intricacies.
I dipped my brush in chocolate brown, and my canvas exploded in a rainbow. And the crimson? What crimson?
pic credit: Image of colours via Shutterstock.
Guest Bloggers are those who want to share their ideas/experiences, but do not have a profile here. Write to us at [email protected] if you have a special situation (for e.g. want read more...
Stay updated with our Weekly Newsletter or Daily Summary - or both!
People say that women are the greatest enemies of women. I vehemently disagree. It is the patriarchal mindset that makes women believe in the wrong ideology.
The entire world celebrates International Women’s Day on March 8, 2024. It should be a joyful day, but unfortunately, not all women are entitled to this privilege, as violence against women is at its peak. The experience of oppression pushes many women to choose freedom. As far as patriotism is concerned, feminism is not a cup of tea in this society.
What happens when a woman decides to stand up for herself? Does this world easily accept the decisions of women in this society? What inspires them to be free of the clutches of the oppression that women have faced for ages? Most of the time, women do not get the chance to decide for themselves. Their lives are always at the mercy of someone, which can be their parents, siblings, husband, or children.
In some cases, women do not feel the need to make any decisions. They are taught to obey the patriarchal system, which makes them believe that they are right. In my family, I was never taught to make decisions on my own. It was always my parents who bought dresses and all that I needed.
14 years after her last feature film Dhobi Ghat, storyteller extraordinaire comes up with her new film, Laapataa Ladies, a must watch.
*Some spoilers alert*
Every religion around the world dictates terms to women. The onus is always on women to be ‘modest’ and cover their faces and bodies so men can’t be “tempted”, rather than on men to keep their eyes where they belong and behave like civilized beings. So much so that even rape has been excused on the grounds of women eating chowmein or ‘men will be men’. I think the best Hindi movie retort to this unwanted advice on ‘akeli ladki khuli tijori ki tarah hoti hai’ (an alone woman is like an open jewellery box) came from Geet in Jab We Met – Kya aap gyan dene ke paise lete hain kyonki chillar nahin hain mere paas.
The premise of Laapataa Ladies is beautifully simple – two brides clad in the ghunghat that covers their identity get mixed up on a train. Within this Russian Doll, you get a comedy of errors, a story of getting lost, a commentary on patriarchy’s attitude towards women, a mystery, and a tale of finding oneself, all in one. Done with a mostly light touch that has you laughing and nodding along.
Please enter your email address